You Are the Moon
by Tarafina
Summary: When Chloe Sullivan's childhood best friend returns to Beacon Hills, she's thrown into a mystery she can't help but unravel, involving murder, werewolves, and a crisis of conscience on whether to keep her and her brother Stiles safe from a distance or help out a man she's falling in love with, despite how dark the rabbit hole gets.
1. Part I

**Title**: You Are The Moon (That Breaks The Night For Which I Have to Howl)  
**Category**: Smallville/Teen Wolf  
**Genre**: Romance/Drama/Humor  
**Ship**: Chloe Sullivan/Derek Hale  
**Rating**: Explicit/NC-17  
**Timeline**: Follows the entire first season, often rewriting full scenes from each episode (possibly whole episodes) to better understand the plot and for those who haven't seen the show.  
**Spoiler(s)**: Wolf Moon (1x01)  
**Word** **Count**: 9,637  
**Summary**: When Chloe Sullivan's childhood best friend Derek Hale returns to Beacon Hills, she's thrown into a mystery she can't help but unravel, involving murder, werewolves, and a crisis of conscience on whether to keep her and her brother Stiles safe from a distance or help out a man she's falling in love with, despite how dark the rabbit hole gets.

**_You Are The Moon (That Breaks The Night For Which I Have to Howl)_**  
-Novel-

**I.**

Nearly being run-over by a narcissistic teenager who shouldn't have the keys to a brand new Porsche was not exactly the 'good morning' Chloe was looking forward to. But there the Whittemore kid was, giving her that wide-eyed '_well_, are you going to get out of my way?' look as he waved his hands.

Chloe tipped her head, glaring at him, and pointed at the walk sign that very obviously gave her the go-ahead. "I don't care if your dad's a big shot attorney, Jackson. You nearly run me over at a _cross walk _again and I'll have your face plastered on every newspaper in the _state_," she called out, before flicking her sunglasses over her eyes and continuing across the street.

Huffing, he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel and then, like a spoiled child, spun the wheels out as he raced off impatiently.

Chloe had to wonder what he was doing out of bed this early in the morning considering the first day of school wasn't until tomorrow; something she knew well because when she'd dropped by the Stilinski house her brother had still been fast asleep and muttering about _sweet Lydia _under his breath, all while drooling the pillow he was hugging tight, dopey smile in place. She loved her brother, but his taste in girls left something to be desired. Nothing against Lydia, but Chloe figured that after this long, if she wasn't seeing what a catch Stiles was, then she didn't deserve him. Maybe she was biased, seeing as he was her brother and all, but he deserved better.

She paused outside a diner, eyes catching on the telephone pole marked with a missing sign; one of her own, in fact. Two weeks ago, Laura Hale had blown back into town and come knocking at her door at the paper…

_"Well, look at you…" came a voice from the doorway._

_Chloe looked up, her brow furrowed, and paused, head quirked as she set eyes on a familiar face. With an abrupt, surprised laugh, she stood from her desk, pushing her notes away, along with a file folder of pictures. "Laura Hale," she said, shaking her head as she circled the desk. "What brings you back to Beacon Hills?" she wondered._

_"I could ask you the same thing…" She walked into the office and knocked her knuckle back against a framed commendation for journalistic fortitude. "Last I remember, Derek was saying you got an internship at the Daily Planet and all your investigative dreams were coming true…" She raised an eyebrow. "That was the point in moving with your dad, right? So you'd be in Metropolis?"_

_She shrugged, her lips pursed in a vague smile. "I was twelve; dad wanted to pack up and chase a job opportunity and Stiles was an annoying five year old… Seemed like a good idea at the time." _

_"And yet here you are…" She threw her hands up. "Don't get me wrong… I think editor for the _Beacon Hills Tribune_—" she said with dramatic flair, "is a pretty big feat, especially at only 23, but…" She clucked her tongue. "Not the same as The DP, right?"_

_Chloe hugged her arms around her waist. "Yeah, well…" Her face fell. "Things changed when mom died…" Her throat tightened and she cast her eyes away. "I came back for Stiles and… Just made sense to stay after that."_

_"Ah, dead parents, now _that _I get," Laura agreed with a sardonic snort. She walked further into the office, casting an admiring eye around, before taking a seat on the edge of Chloe's busy desk. _

_"So, not that I'm not enjoying the reunion," Chloe said, leaning her hip against the desk, just in front of Laura. "But what brings you to my neck of the woods? Last I saw of you or Derek was after the funeral…" she said softly, gaze dropping for a moment. "Six years is a long time."_

_"Yeah, well… Not long enough." She sighed; turning her head, she looked thoughtfully over some of the pictures still scattered on the desk. "You're investigating the weird animal attack in the woods, right?" she asked, brows furrowed. "There was a spiral marking on the side of a deer; I saw the paper online…"_

_Chloe half-smiled. "I knew the online newspaper would be a hit," she boasted, before circling back around and taking a seat at her desk. "And yeah, I am." She spread the photos out a little more. "It was weird… and you know how I like weird things."_

_Laura's brows hiked, mouth tilting with amusement. "Well you were Derek's best friend for twelve long, _torturous _years, so you _must _like 'em weird…"_

_She snorted. "Spoken like a true little sister." She paused a moment, idly playing with the corner of a photo before she asked, "Do you see him often?"_

_Slowly, Laura looked up from the deer photo she'd been staring at. "Derek?" She nodded. "He's always been a lone wolf…" she said wryly, but sobered as she added, "Especially after the fire…" Sighing, she shook her head. "We stuck together the first few years, after… _everything. _But then I grew up, went my own way and so did he…" Her jaw ticked. "He wasn't the same, y'know? _After…_"_

_Chloe stared at her a moment. "Were you?"_

_She smiled to herself. "You always did like asking the hard questions." She rose from the desk, tucking her hands in the pockets of her jacket. Licking her lips, she shrugged her shoulders high. "Who would be after their whole family was burned alive, right?" She turned her head, long dark hair spilling over her shoulder as she eyed Chloe. "Anyway, Dr. Phil moment over…" She half-smiled. "I need your help with something."_

_Leaning back in her chair, she raised an eyebrow. "Why do I get the feeling this has something to do with the mysterious animal attacks?"_

_"You aren't editor for nothing." She put her hands on her hips as she turned to face her. "The deer... You didn't put in the article where they found it, or _when_."_

_"And your sudden fascination with Beacon Hills wildlife would be because…?"_

_Her lips twitched. "Call it a favor for an old friend and just don't ask…"_

_"Ah, one of those…" She laughed. "You know, asking when I'm not supposed to is basically my shtick."_

_"I guess I'm leaning a little heavily on the 'we grew up together' angle, huh?"_

_Chloe shook her head. "Hey, if it was anybody but a Hale asking, I might be a less little understanding…" She shrugged. "But I spent a good portion of my childhood at your house. In fact, I remember your pigtails phase pretty vividly."_

_"Ugh, I burned the metal images, don't bring them back up," she complained._

_She laughed, but nodded. "Look, what I have is yours… I owe you and Derek that much."_

_Laura offered a soft smile. "He misses you, y'know?" She walked back toward her, nodding. "He doesn't bring up Beacon Hills much, but when he does and it's not depressing family stuff, he talks about you."_

_"Well, I was pretty unforgettable, even if I _did _only visit over break the last few years…"_

_"It was better than nothing." She shook her head. "Family's family, right?"_

_"Yeah…" She stared down at the pictures in front of her. "Well look, the deer was actually found in a clearing not far from your old house," she said, pushing the photo back toward Laura. "I brought it over to Doc Deaton, the local vet, and he said whatever was used to carve the symbol wasn't your average tool…" She frowned. "In fact, he said it had the same jagged edging that a claw or nail of another animal…" Her eyebrows hiked. "So you can imagine it hasn't exactly been the easiest case to crack." She grinned. "But those are usually the fun ones."_

_Laura nodded, staring down at the photo. "It was by my old house?" She hummed. "And the day, do you remember when it happened?"_

_"Yes, actually." She leaned forward in her seat and shuffled a few papers. "I remember it stood out because the police thought it was some ritualistic, nut-job thing…" She held up a photo-copied police report. "Full moon." Her eyes flashed. "Attracts the weirdoes every time."_

_Laura reached for the report and nodded, muttering under her breath, "You have no idea…"_

Chloe frowned, sipping her almond mocha and licking a dab of whip from her top lip, as she stared with narrowed eyes at the paper.

The police had tried to remind her that Laura had blown out of town unexpectedly, so it wouldn't be surprising if she left the same way, but Chloe was trusting her gut on this one. Laura had come back to Beacon Hills for a reason, and it all revolved around the deer. Unfortunately, a week later, after picking apart Chloe's brain for clues and better understanding, she'd disappeared. Chloe asked around town but nobody had seen her, in fact most didn't know she was even back.

She'd made up the missing posters to no avail. And her internet search for anything Laura or Derek Hale related came up on the empty side, except for the extensive coverage of the house fire six years prior. She shivered at the thought and pulled back, turning on her heel and continuing on her way to work, but her mind was elsewhere.

For most of Chloe's childhood, she'd lived with her mom. Her parents had married young, in part because Moira was pregnant with her, and split up when Chloe was five, going their separate ways but on amicable enough terms that Gabe took her on weekends. Growing up in Beacon Hills was not the kind of excitement Chloe wanted out of life; she dreamed of big, loud, bustling cities, and instead she was stuck with Sheriff's and creepy forest landscapes. That didn't stop her imagination from taking on a life of its own, however, and it wasn't long before she was putting her creativity into writing and investigation.

When she met Derek, she was writing an exposé on whether or not their kindergarten teacher was stealing supplies from the school. She wrote it in blue crayon. He told her he knew when people were lying, that it was a trick he'd figured out, and she dragged him along with her while she grilled the teacher. Not only did they find out their teacher _was _stealing supplies, but she also occasionally stole food from kids' lunches. The principal hadn't taken them seriously at first; who would when they had a couple of five year olds telling them a _kindergarten _teacher had a kleptomania problem? But Chloe was persistent and Derek, even if he did always slump in his chair, sighing, telling her he wanted to go outside and _run_, never really left her side.

They made a good duo. Chloe would do the digging, find the mystery and usually solve it mid-way of getting caught, often in awkward, sometimes dangerous ways. And Derek was the stealthy lie-detector that usually just rolled his eyes and helped her get out of whatever sticky situation she happened to be in at the time. For seven years, that's what their friendship consisted of; well, that and running through the woods surrounding his house, climbing trees, and generally skirting the rules of conformity.

Chloe met Derek when her parents were divorcing. He was there when her mom remarried the Sheriff when she was eight, and when baby Stiles showed up a year later. He was her excuse whenever she ran out the door when the words 'change your brother's diaper' came up and her alibi every time she broke in somewhere she shouldn't because of a lead. Because yes, at double-digits she learned breaking and entering would happen and she had a reputation around town for being too curious for her own good. Derek though, he was loyal, and he always had an excuse or a story to cover for her, even when she hadn't warned him ahead of time.

For seven years, they were inseparable, attached at the hip and usually in trouble. And then her dad told her he had a job opportunity in Metropolis, and suddenly those big ideas of living in a city and writing for a big-name newspaper one day didn't seem so far away. Chloe was twelve years old and tired of getting the 'responsibility' talk from her mom and step-dad. She wanted freedom and in her eyes, that meant big city life.

If she was being honest, she might've tried to convince everyone involved that Derek should come with her. Can't blame a girl for trying. He was her best friend, after all. But he stayed, family loyalty and all that (plus, obviously, his parents weren't about to let him leave on a whim) and she visited every summer and spring break. For the most part, they stayed in touch. Phone calls, email, texting; it was a technology age and there was no excuse not to stay in touch. While Derek wasn't what anybody would call tech-savvy, he made an effort to always call her or return her emails.

Things changed when they were seventeen. Derek met newcomer to Beacon Hills, Kate Argent, and suddenly his world was all about her.

Chloe tried not to be jealous; he was a hormonal boy with a hot girlfriend, what did she, a childhood best friend he probably didn't even recognize _was _a girl, have on that? And besides, since her dad had traded in city for country living in Smallville (how much of a gyp was that, too?), she was a little busy solving the mystery of which monster of the week had come to kill, maim, and destroy. But she went down, as usual, to visit her family, catch up with her brother, and reunite with her best friend. Only now her best friend had a shadow in the shape of a sarcastic, critical, snide Kate Argent. And Chloe tried to play nice and retract the claws, but it was clear after a couple weeks that Chloe/Derek time was more like Chloe playing third wheel to Derek/Kate time, so she cut her losses and decided to leave early for her internship with the Daily Planet.

Sometimes she regretted that, since the following year, the last time she would see Derek, was at the funeral for his family.

She'd investigated it since she got back; since her mother got sick and she'd come home to Beacon Hills, leaving her dead-in-the-water career of journalism in the dust. She held her mother's chilled hand as her life drained away, day by day, until she simply wasn't there anymore. And after the funeral, she had a choice to make. Go back to Metropolis and pick up life as it had been, or start from scratch in her hometown…

True, Beacon Hills hadn't been what she wanted as a kid. But now that she'd had a taste of city life, and what a taste it was, she thought she could do with something a little more down to earth. So she put in a résumé at the Tribune and scaled the ladder faster than anyone else, putting her in an editor's position when the former editor basically handed the reigns over as long as he could keep his wage until early retirement. With Chloe's revamping, newspaper sales were up and the online version was doing wonderfully. She'd moved out of the Stilinski guest room to get her own apartment above an antique book store and she set down roots.

More importantly, she got to work on her relationship with her brother. It wasn't easy maintaining family when they only saw each other on holidays, but over the last two years, they'd found their footing. It helped that Stiles was a sarcastic and smart teenager that reminded her of a less foolhardy version of herself. While she always followed the dangerous path, he saw it for what it was and avoided it when possible. Which wasn't to say he didn't get into his own kind of trouble; he'd always been fascinated with his dad's job and what each call-to-arms meant, usually showing up to crime scenes, Scott McCall in tow, before most of the department got there.

Curiosity, she guessed, ran in the family.

When she reached the newspaper office, the front door was held open with a wedge. She smiled as she spotted the gold lettering on the window, proudly stating the paper's name. They ran a small outfit of only ten staff, set up in an office on the main strip; the small town charm was more welcoming than cheesy, although she imagined some city folk might balk at it.

Walking through the door, she was hit with the smell of ink and paper; she breathed in deeply and felt a shiver of appreciation run down her back.

Gloria smiled at her in greeting, waving a hand before pointing at the phone balanced under her ear to show she couldn't talk.

Chloe raised her Styrofoam coffee cup in hello and continued through a second door leading in to where desks sat pressed together, computers on top, files and stacks of notes lining each.

Much of her staff was busy, which she liked to see, it meant something was always happening. She made her way back to her own private office, always feeling a swell of pride in her chest over seeing her name on the door, and walked inside, closing it with a flick of her foot. She dropped her jacket over a chair and circled around to take a seat behind her desk, letting out a sigh as she turned on her computer.

It was going to be a long, busy day, and she was looking forward to it.

She paused, however, as she reached for the notes she'd made on an article she'd been investigating personally, when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye.

It was one of the Missing posters she'd put up, recopied, only something was on the back of it.

When she grabbed it, turning it over, her eyes widened, and she stared at a photo copied picture of the deer with the symbol carved into its side.

Teeth grinding, she stood from her chair and moved to her door, swinging it open and popping her head out. "Anybody see somebody in my office?" she asked, casting her eyes around. "Anyone at all?"

Her staff paused, looked around at each other, and then shook their heads, offering up negative replies, assurances they'd keep an eye out, and apologies.

Humming, she walked back into her office, brow furrowed, and looked over the page once more.

Either someone was toying with her, or somebody was giving her a clue.

She was betting on the second one.

Plucking it from her desk, she made her way over to her Wall, digging out a pin and using it to add to the mismatched pile of information she'd collected on the deer, Laura, and her disappearance. Hands on her hips, she took a step back, and blew out a sigh as she looked at a whole lot of dead ends. Eyes narrowed, she backed up until she was sitting on the edge of her desk.

The Wall was a trick she'd picked up from her step-dad. Between eight and twelve, she couldn't count how many hours she'd spent in the police station, taking up space at John's desk, behind which was whatever case he'd been working on, pieced together bit by bit for him to find the culprit. Sometimes she'd tried to figure it out before him, usually when she was supposed to be doing her homework or occasionally on timeout for being caught doing something she shouldn't. She smiled as she remembered how he'd turned on the lights and siren the first time he'd shown up to find it was her trespassing on someone's property and 'took her in'. His scare tactics really hadn't worked, but she appreciated the dedicated dad routine all the same.

John Stilinksi was a wonderful step-father and an even better Sheriff, which was why she'd picked up a few helpful tips along the way. The Wall had eventually morphed into a Wall of Weird while in Smallville, adapting again in Metropolis, and later returning to its roots when she got back to Beacon Hills. It helped too, that having that tie at the Sheriff's office meant she often got a quote or at least a head's up on what was going on. Of course, it also meant keeping a lid on certain information until they wanted it brought to light and while Chloe had always been a firm believer in 'the world deserves to know,' she also recognized that there was a time to speak and a time to shut up. As long as she got to share it eventually, she curbed her natural impatience.

Eventually, the rest of her workload intervened, and she was forced to put the mystery of Laura and the surprise desk delivery on the backburner. She had another article due and a lot of others to read over before giving the go-ahead for print. Not to mention, she liked to organize and edit much of the online newspaper herself. While she had a guy who was basically hired to run it, she still jumped in whenever she felt like and fiddled or rearranged things to her liking.

Lois liked to tell her it was tension; that she was wound up too tight and working too hard and what she needed was to go out and have a little fun. "Let loose, cuz! Meet a cute boy and tie him to your bed for a weekend," she'd often write, or a variation of, in their weekly emails. But Chloe didn't have time for _boys_; in fact, she thought she had enough boys in her life as it was.

The phone call was right on time. She smiled, leaning back in her chair, muscles protesting as she realized just how many hours she'd spent bent over her keyboard or thumbing through notes. She grabbed the phone off its cradle and sighed, "That time already?"

Stiles snorted. "Do I need to send you another link to how being a workaholic lifestyle leads to an early heart attack? Because I have them saved, you know… It's not good, not _healthy_, and between you and dad, I'm running a little thin here, okay? Think of _me_, Chloe. Cut back on work because of _me_."

She laughed. "Touching, really." She rolled her eyes and glanced at the clock. "Did you make dinner or are we meeting up?"

"What do you think?" he asked, amused.

Smiling, she nodded. "Okay. I'll pick something up from Rosie's and meet you over at the station."

"Something healthy," he demanded.

"Fine, but when John complains that he wanted real and not rabbit food, it's all on you…" she warned, grabbing up her jacket and purse before leaning back to save her file and shut off the monitor. While she'd be meeting her family for dinner, and even with Stiles plea in the back of her mind, she knew she'd be coming back to continue working awhile longer.

"Duly noted," he sighed.

"Don't worry, we know it's only because you care…"

"Care, don't want to be orphaned, same difference," he snarked.

Hooking her bag over her shoulder, she left her office, closing the door and locking it behind her. The delivery earlier had her a little on edge and she cast her eyes around her empty bullpen before crossing through to the second door leading into the front area. She flicked off the lights and locked that door too before saying into the phone, "So? You excited for school to start tomorrow?"

"Excited to get back to the hierarchy that has me and Scott riding so low on the totem pole that we're practically non-existent? Hah, yeah, totally. Cannot wait. I might even hire a skywriter to exclaim my pure, unadulterated love of high school for all to see."

"Your cynicism is showing, Sti…" As she walked down the sidewalk, she swung her keys on her finger. "What's the big deal anyway? You're on the lacrosse team, you're smarter than the average kid, and you've got a best friend to share in all the highs and lows… Is it really that terrible?"

"What? _Yes_. Of course it's that terrible. Don't—Don't sugarcoat it, all right? Sitting on the bench is not the same as being _on _the lacrosse team. And did I _mention _that we're non-existent? I mean, you'd think after all these years, people would remember a charming face like mine, but half of them don't get my name right… It _sucks_. On the scale of—of okay to complete suckdom, I'm riding the tail and it is _not _a good place to be, okay?"

Chloe bit her lip at his dramatics and stepped inside the diner, the bell jangling over her head. "All right, it sucks. The whole world might as well swallow you whole… I'll hold a service, pretty girls will weep, and people will finally remember your name with the reverence it was owed."

He snorted. "Thanks. Your understanding and sympathy has fully restored my faith in mankind… womankind… Uh, _people_."

"Great, that leaves me open to solve world hunger and bring about world peace."

"Sure, but not until _after _dinner."

Chuckling, she leaned her hip against the cashier's counter, smiling at the patient lady behind the counter. "All right. You talk John into sitting down for some grub, I'll provide the food… I'll see you in…" She quirked an eyebrow at the waitress. "Twenty?" She got a nod and reiterated, "Twenty minutes."

She could hear her brother moving the phone from one ear to another, the background noise changing, and the sound of his jeep door slamming. "Sure. See you then."

After hanging up, she clasped her hands on the countertop. "Apparently we're going as healthy as you can make it tonight, Jessa."

"On it, Chlo," she assured with a wink, before turning around and walking toward the kitchen, calling as she went, "We got a triple order of the healthy stuff, Phil. Sheriff Stilinki's daughter's in for pick-up."

"You got it. Three rabbit meals comin' up," Phil returned.

Jessa gave her a thumbs up and Chloe nodded at her in thanks before moving to take a seat at the serving bar, where a few sliced and half-eaten pies were sitting on glass-covered pedestals. She admired the pumpkin for a moment and smiled; she loved fall. And sure, August had only just ended and there was a few weeks before the season changed, but she could already smell the spices, feel the cool breeze, and see the leaves changing color; purely on whimsy since it was still warm California weather all around.

Dropping her bag into the stool next to her, Chloe took a seat and drummed her hands on the countertop. She tugged out her phone to check her messages, answered a few and saved the longer ones for later. It was a few minutes before she felt it; that hair standing on the back of her neck sensation that someone was watching her. Brows furrowed, she turned her eyes to one side and just listened; as if she thought she could hear a change behind her. She played it off like she wasn't looking for anything in particular; stretching her arms back and twisting her head side to side to relieve a kink before casting her eyes around the room, looking for anybody who might stand out.

She saw the Lahey kid in the back row, head in hand, shoulders hunched, nursing a glass of coffee while he appeared to be wasting time.

She frowned to herself, thinking back, not for the first time, to the disturbance reports she'd seen in John's office; noise reports and concerned neighbors suggesting something odd might be going on at the Lahey house.

Suddenly, Isaac looked up, and she realized that she was giving him the same standing-neck-hair feeling she'd just had. But she let Isaac see it was her, imagining that the eerie feeling wouldn't help what already looked like a constant paranoia that stuck close to him. She offered a half-smile and a wave that he slowly, uncertainly, returned, before directing his eyes back down and focusing on his coffee.

She looked away, checking out the other patrons, but it was just one of the teachers from the high school, reading a folded up newspaper, and the man who ran the tool shop a block over. Neither of them were paying her any attention, and neither were the two waitresses; one of which was bent over a few college-age text books while the other was playing Temple Run on her iPhone. Which meant whoever was watching her… wasn't in the diner.

She turned in her seat, brow furrowed, and started looking out the large windows. It was dark out, so only the street lamps managed to light up the street outside.

She paused when she saw two bright blue spots; she wanted to call them eyes, but she'd never seen that shade before and eyes didn't glow like that. She took a step off her stool, curiosity itching for her to sate it, when suddenly a bell dinged, and the cook called out, "Three rabbit specials; have at 'em."

Jumping slightly, Chloe's head whirled toward the sound and she blinked a few times as Jessa moved to grab her brown-bagged order and walk it over to the pay counter. Chloe turned back to see if the blue spots were still there but the window was dark and empty. She dug her wallet from her purse and paid before hugging the bag under her arm and walking out. She looked both ways, searching for any signs of what she'd seen, before finally turning to start toward the station.

It wasn't a far trek, but with the tingling at the back of her neck, it felt like ages. She kept turning, head swiveling side to side, searching out whoever was following her, watching her, but she couldn't see anything. Cars drove past, people moved down the streets, to and from working late or going out to the restaurants, but for the most part, many people were at home. It was the last night before school started back up, which meant a lot of people who'd been sleeping in were going to have to get up bright and early come tomorrow.

Chloe saw the station ahead and breathed a sigh of relief; she hurried her steps and crossed the gravel road, filled with lined up police cars and a transport van. She walked up the cement walkway to the front door and swung it open, wiping her feet on the welcome mat before looking back through the glass door, searching the road, lit up with bluish hue of the street and lawn lamps.

"Hey Chloe."

She turned her head and smiled at Carla, who was running the front desk. "Hey. Stiles here yet?"

She pointed a pen toward the hall. "In the back with your dad; he pulled in ten minutes ago."

"Great. Thanks." She walked through and made her way past a few waiting people and passing familiar officers as she went. Being the sheriff's step-daughter (even if everyone seemed to forget the 'step'part) had its perks and Chloe had quickly made friendly with the other staff at the department, learning their names and a little about their home lives.

"Hey Bill, how's the wife?"

"Still pregnant and impatient," he replied, nodding at her as she passed.

"Half your fault," she teased.

"Trust me, she never lets me forget."

She chuckled to herself as she turned the corner. The door to the sheriff's office was open and Chloe walked in on the middle of a conversation, leaning against the jamb.

"And all _I'm _saying is it wouldn't the _worst _thing to show up to school with my own siren on my jeep… I mean how _cool_ would that look?"

John gave him a patented look of exasperation and Chloe took it as her cue to interrupt. She knocked her knuckles on the door as she walked inside. "I bring food and news from the outside world," she said, moving to drop the bag on John's busy desk before taking a seat next to her brother.

"Is the news something along the lines of 'this is a joke, I have real food in a different bag?'" John wondered, frowning as he unloaded grilled chicken sandwiches on whole wheat bread with side green salads.

She grinned at him before reaching across and plucking up one of the salads. "What do you think?" she asked, winking as she leaned back in her chair.

"I think my children are in a conspiracy to keep me from enjoying one of the last few joys I have in life…" he sighed, but unwrapped his sandwich all the same.

"If food is all you have left then dad, I'm sorry, but you need a hobby like, _yesterday_," Stiles told him, brows hiked as he gathered his food into his lap. He waved a hand encouragingly. "Maybe pick up fishing or golfing or—or macramé or something."

"Macramé?" Chloe repeated on a snort.

"What? I think he'd be great at it." He gave her the wide-eyed, hiding a grin look, and she shook her head, rolling her eyes.

"I don't even know what this macramé thing _is_…" John told them, before taking a large bite of his sandwich. "Is it like that cross-stitch stuff your grandmother used to make?" he wondered, eyebrow quirked.

"Wow, weird mental image," Stiles muttered.

Chloe tipped her head thoughtfully. "I imagined 'Home Is Where Your Gun Is…'"

He shrugged, nodding. "That could work."

John sighed at them before digging into his bag to search out the dressing for his salad. "So? How was work?" he asked, looking at Chloe.

"Actually, that what I wanted to talk to you about," she said, picking at her salad. "I think somebody left me a message."

He frowned. "What _kind _of message?"

"I think it's related to the deer and Laura's missing case… I think they're telling me they're connected and I'm on to something…"

"Chloe," he sighed, resting his arms on the desk. "I know Laura was a friend of yours… But you have to remember, Beacon Hills holds a lot of bad memories for her. It's not surprising that she wouldn't stay around."

"No, what's surprising is that she came _back_," Chloe argued. "Look, I know Laura. It doesn't matter that she was only back in town a week or that I hadn't seen her in six years… I _know _her. And she was in deep with something; she _knew _something… She was just piecing it together when something went sideways!"

Stiles was watching her intently, brow furrowed. "What are the chances that something _did _happen?" Before his dad could say anything, he waved a hand, "No, but you said it yourself… You thought the deer killing thing was like, a ritualistic thing… So what if Laura Hale stumbled onto something and…" He sighed. "The stakes went from killing animals to killing _people_."

"That's a big leap," John said, looking between them meaningfully. "Laura probably just left town and, as impolite as it might be, didn't say goodbye."

Chloe shook her head, but before she could argue it further, a call came in over the radio and, together, Chloe and Stiles turned their heads, staring at it as it spat out familiar numbers before explaining.

Chloe went ice-cold.

"We've got half a body in the woods. All units respond. Reported by two joggers; repeat, _half _a body in the woods."

She could actually see as John seemed to slump with the knowledge, his eyes falling closed a moment. When he opened them, he was staring at her.

"I'm going with you," she declared.

"Chloe…" He held up a hand as he stood from his desk. "If this is what we think it is… If it _is _Laura Hale…" He stared at her searchingly. "How sure are you that you want to see her like that?"

She swallowed tightly and stared up at him, before her resolve strengthened. "I'm going with you." Standing, she tossed her food back in the bag. "I won't bury my head in the sand. Laura was a _friend_… and if they're calling in all the units, that means you guys are doing a ground search… One more flashlight can only help."

He let out a long breath, but nodded at her understandingly.

Stiles perked up in his chair but they both turned toward him, saying firmly and in-tune with one another, "_No_."

Deflated, he sat back in his chair and frowned. "Not fair…" he complained.

John frowned. "You've got school in the morning… Why don't you head home? Finish dinner?" He offered a half-smirk and said, "I'll pick something up on my way back."

Stiles threw his hands up. "You try and save a man from an early grave…"

"It's appreciated," he returned, amused. "Now go home, Stiles."

Saluting his father, he grabbed up the bag of wasted food and started for the door. "I would've been a big help!" he called back.

"We'll remember that," Chloe assured.

"Yeah, yeah…"

John got his things together and shrugged on his jacket. He checked his gun was holstered and dug out a spare flashlight before raising an eyebrow at her. "You're sure about this…?" He paused, eyes darting away before he told her candidly, "If it _is _Laura, then she went missing a week ago, that's a long time for something to happen… She's been out in the woods, where any number of _animals_ could have…" he trailed off.

Chloe swallowed tightly, but nodded. "I know. Which is why I want to find her as soon as possible…" She buttoned up her own jacket and followed him out. "I don't know how I'm going to find Derek… Or even how I'll _tell _him."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," John reminded, staring down at her as he walked at her side. "It might not be Laura," he tried to reassure, reaching over to pat her shoulder.

Chloe wished she could be optimistic, but she knew as soon as the call came in who the body was that had been found.

She drove shot-gun with John out to the meeting site at the Beacon Hills preserve. Every officer from the local department and, after John made a few calls and talked to the local mayor, they agreed the State police should be called in too. They worked out a search party plan which mostly consisted of combing the woods in a line, flashlights up, leaving no log unturned. Chloe stuck close to John, in part because it was too easy to get lost and also because, as he put it, "We don't know who's out here… If somebody was killed, then somebody _killed _them… And we don't know where they are."

It was raining; a light but constant drizzle that soaked her hair and jeans quickly, making her skin chilled. They had dogs out, barking and snapping and pulling at their partners as they rushed through the trees, sniffing at the bed of the forest. The moon was large and bright enough that it lit up large portions of forest bed when they reached a parting of the branches above. "Of all the places to die, creepy forest isn't on my top favorites," Chloe muttered.

"You have favorite places you'd like to _die_?" John asked, brow furrowed.

"Sure." She shrugged, her eyes wide. "Old and comfortable in bed comes to mind."

He turned his eyes away in thought before nodding. "Good point." He frowned. "But that you have to think about it worries me…" He eyed her. "Don't let this cloud your judgement, Chloe. You're young and this kind of thing, it's not as common as you might think."

She grinned up at him. "I appreciate the soft, stay innocent speech, but I'm a reporter… I know all too much about murder statistics, remember?" As she walked off past him, she could hear him sigh regretfully, and she smiled to herself. He was a good man and she loved that he wished he could erase the worst of what she knew about the world. But she wasn't a little kid and even when she was, she was looking for mystery and scandal everywhere around her.

John caught up to her and they were both distracted when they heard the barking and yapping grow louder; they hurried their steps.

"_Stay right there!_" an officer shouted, waving his flashlight.

She felt John's arm move back to cover her for a moment as he tried to assess the danger ahead before she heard him sigh.

"Hang on, hang on," he called out, before moving forward.

Chloe realized what it was and shook her head, moving to stand at John's side as they stared down at a wide-eyed Stiles, laying on the ground, pushing up from the ground and dusting the mud off from his jeans while eyeing the German Shepherd warily.

"This little delinquent belongs to me," John told the officer, watching as his son managed to stand upright.

Blinking his eyes against the harsh glow of the flashlight that apparently momentarily blinded him, he offered a nonchalant face, putting his arms down. "Dad, how're ya doin'?"

"Exactly what part of 'go home' did you not understand?"

"Uh, well…" He scratched at his neck. "Home is a subjective word, right? I—I mean you _could _have meant home to my natural habitat… And didn't we all once live in the woods? I mean—"

"Stop," John ordered.

He nodded. "Stopping."

John cast his eyes around. "Where's your usual partner in crime?"

"Depends on the crime. I mean, Chloe only _looks_ innocent." He motioned to her. "One could say she's the _reason _I have such an insatiable curiosity."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Don't blame me. I would've trained you to sleuth better."

He pursed his lips at her.

"Your _other _partner in crime," John said, getting the conversation back on track.

Stiles feigned ignorance, his eyes narrowed, and his voice raising an octave as he said, "Who? _Scott?_" He waved a hand and gave a breathy laugh. "Sc-Scott's home." He sniffed. "He said he wanted to get a good night's sleep for first day back at school tomorrow." He shook his head and blew out a sigh. "Just me, in the woods… alone."

Not believing him, John raised his flashlight up and cast it around the trees, searching out a familiar figure.

Chloe tipped her head as she saw something move, quickly ducking behind a tree. She glanced at her brother, who shook his head subtly, his eyes widened in emphasis.

"Scott! You out there?" John shouted. He brought his flashlight back around, staring skeptically. "_Scott?_"

There was no answer but the rain bouncing.

John lowered his flashlight and looked to his son, who was still staring at Chloe.

Sighing, John passed his flashlight to his other hand and sighed. "Well young man," he said, walking toward him, "I'm gonna walk you back to your car—" He grabbed him by the neck of his shirt and tugged him along. "—and then you and I are gonna have a conversation about what 'go home' means… _exactly_."

Chloe snorted. "If it hasn't sunk in yet, it never will." She turned her head back to look over the woods. "I'm gonna stay, keep looking."

John paused, unsure.

She smiled. "Really, it's okay. We've got local and state police everywhere; you really think I'm in danger?"

He tipped his head and raised a brow at her, mouth tilted. "I think you and danger are too synonymous _too often_."

She grinned. "Weren't you about to punish Stiles?"

"Hey!" her brother complained.

She waved at them before turning on her heel and starting back toward the woods, whistling under her breath. When she was sure John and Stiles were out of hearing range, she called out, "Well? Scott? You out there?" She rubbed her hands together before lifting them up and blowing warm air into them. "Look, I'd offer you a ride home but John drove me in… You need to get out of here though, and preferably without alerting the others…"

She got no reply and shrugged to herself, hoping her little brother's best friend managed to get home without getting caught.

Chloe continued through the forest, flashlight bouncing around, highlighting fallen trees and muddy, leave-covered ground.

As a child, she'd spent hours out here. Derek loved the woods; not surprising since his parents owned a house out in the thick of them. When they weren't chasing down Chloe's latest mystery, they were out here. Truth be told, while she'd always thought city life was where she wanted to be, she constantly missed the fresh smell of trees and damp earth when she was gone. Every spring and summer when she came back, her and Derek would go for a hike and she'd tell herself it would be enough to keep her going until the next time she visited, but it was bittersweet.

She wondered if Laura took comfort in dying in the woods; in a place so close to her childhood home. She plucked a wet leaf as she passed and twirled the step between her fingers before casting her eyes around. It was almost too dark, but slivers of moon beams reached through to guide her along. It was beautiful in an eerie way and she liked it a lot more during the day, when she could see the moss climbing the trees and critters skittering all around. When the trees were tall companions rather than looming adversaries.

She snorted to herself as she realized she was getting too deep into her mind and getting poetic over her surroundings. It probably wouldn't be any more beautiful in the daylight when she started to see it as the place Laura died in. And, if she was really in two places, was possibly murdered, violently.

She heard rustling then and turned her head before hopping up onto a log, stuck between two large trees. She was surprised when a herd of deer went racing by, trampling everything in their path. She leaned back against a tree, her eyes wide as they moved so fast they were bumping into each other, some even falling, skidding in the mud, before letting out a cry and hurrying to get up. Her heart hammered; she didn't imagine they'd be running unless there was danger on their tails.

When they passed by her, she hopped down, brow furrowed, and decided that maybe staying with the group was a better idea. She made her way back in the direction she'd come and searched for flashlight beams between the trees. She heard howling in the distance but chalked it up to the dogs; she hoped they caught the scent of whatever was out there.

She quickened her steps, but her heart was still racing as her mind, far too imaginative for its own good, started coming up with ideas about what could be out there, and possibly hungry. There was rustling all around her and the ground still seemed to still tremble with the deer hooves stampeding through the forest.

She felt the sensation at the back of her neck once more and whirled, searching the area, but all she saw were reflective animal eyes in the dark.

"Chloe?"

She turned back quickly, heart lurching in her chest, but laughed at herself as she saw John waiting, standing not far from her. "They found it," he told her, his expression drawn.

Her heart thumped.

"It's the bottom half though," he said, cringing at his own wording.

"That's going to make ID'ing it a little difficult," she sighed, hopping a tree root and moving to walk at his side as they started back toward the meeting place, which she realized was farther than expected thanks to her wandering.

"Difficult but hopefully not impossible," he agreed.

"So what happens now?" she wondered. "Do we keep looking for the matching set or do we pack up until daylight?"

He shook his head. "We're calling it in for the night. Given the location, they're thinking this was what the jogger's found…"

Her gaze wandered. "Which means the other half could be anywhere..."

"They searched the vicinity and came up empty. We'll send another, smaller party out tomorrow, but for tonight, we're bringing in what we found and doing what we can."

She nodded, chewing her lip. "But you think…"

He turned to look at her. "I won't know for sure until the coroner looks the body over, but yes… I believe it's Laura Hale."

Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath, feeling the prick of tears at her eyes. She raised a shaking hand and rubbed between her brows. "Derek," was all she said, a breathless whisper of sorrow.

"I'm sorry, kid," John said, hugging an arm around her shoulders.

It offered a brief comfort; he only ever called her kid during moments where he thought she needed guidance or comfort and the arm around her was the kind of support she'd missed during her teen years. Don't get her wrong, she loved her dad, but Gabe was a workaholic who, sadly, spent more time at Luthorcorp than he did with her. She got it and she adapted, but coming back to Beacon Hills and to John Stilinski, who was a lot more of a hands-on parenting figure only reminded her that maybe she should have stuck around instead of chasing big, empty dreams with her dad. Still, she'd learned a lot when she away and she thought it helped her grow both as a writer and as a person.

She nodded up at him and leaned into his side as he guided her back in silence.

She was close enough to see them loading the half-filled body bag into one of the vans; John kept her moving, opening the passenger side door for her to climb in. She hugged her arms around herself and stared out the window at the passing scenery as he drove her back to her apartment. Shifting into park, he turned to look at her. "You're sure you don't want to stay back at the house tonight?" he wondered, staring searchingly.

She nodded. "Thanks, but I think I'd rather curl up in bed with Alibi… Besides," She offered a grin, "Stiles is going to be all over the place tomorrow morning; I'd rather avoid it."

He snorted, eyebrows hiked as he tipped his head agreeably. "Five bucks says he forgets to set his alarm."

"Ten says he almost leaves the house without pants."

With a laugh, he held a hand out for her to shake on it and she met it halfway.

She pushed the door open then and pulled her bag with her, leaning down to say, "Thanks, John… I know I didn't really do anything, but… It felt right, to be there."

He nodded, offering a sad, knowing smile. "Night Chloe."

"Night."

She waved back at him before she made her way toward the red brick building, walking down the dark alley to the stairs that led up to her side-entrance. The rain had made the brick walls, cement ground, and wood stairs slick. She climbed them quickly, holding tight to the banister, and dug out her keys to let herself inside.

She looked over her shoulder once before pushing her door in and walking inside, flipping the light on as she went. She dropped her bag to the table next to the door and toed off her shoes. Closing and locking the door, both the handle and deadbolt, she shrugged off her jacket and hung it up on a hook. She clicked her tongue to call out her cat, but wasn't surprised when she didn't get a reply right away. He was a grump who lived life on his terms and if he wanted to be cuddled, he usually did it when she was least expecting it.

Chloe started undressing immediately; her clothes were soaked through and clinging to her skin uncomfortably. She tossed her shirt and bra into the laundry hamper as she stepped into her bedroom before shimmying out of her jeans and stripping down her underwear to add to the pile. A hot shower was just what she needed since it felt like every inch of her body was rigid with tension.

Laura was dead.

She wondered briefly, rather pointlessly, how many Missing posters she had to take down.

Standing under the hot spray of the water, she scrubbed her fingers through her hair and tried not to think about the body bag, folded over for easier lifting. She tried not to think about Laura and how lighthearted and friendly she'd been when she blew back into town and came knocking on Chloe's door. How they'd gone out for dinner or lunch every day she'd been back, trading bittersweet stories and memories from childhood. She tried not to add Laura to her mental list of people she'd known and died, which was already far too long to begin with. She failed and the tears burned before they melted into the stream of hot water sluicing down her face.

When she climbed out of the shower, she was exhausted. Mentally and physically, she just wanted to climb into bed and not move for a few days. Curl up in bed and mourn awhile before getting down to business on tracking Derek's whereabouts.

She toweled off and dragged on a pair of cotton shorts and a mismatched tank top before brushing her teeth and throwing her wet hair up into a messy bun. She was walking back through the living room, stomach grumbling for a dinner that went to waste, when she nearly tripped over Alibi; her cat weaved in and out of her feet, tail swooshing against her legs as he meowed demandingly.

"Hey you," she said, reaching down to grab him up and hug him to her chest. His fur was soft and warm and he lay comfortably in the crook of her arm even as his face showed a perma-frown. She brought him with her into the kitchen, where she checked the fridge and cupboards for something to eat before settling on a box of leftover Chinese. She gave it a sniff to make sure it was still good, decided it was, and carried it back to the couch with her. Plopping down in a corner seat, she eyed the stack of books on her end table before shaking her head. If she started reading she wasn't going to get to sleep any time soon; what she needed was something to wind her down.

Al curled up in her lap, tale still swishing, and nuzzled her thigh, getting comfortable, one of his legs stretched out, paw against her shirt, nails hooked in the fabric lightly.

Chloe ate cold chow mein and tried to focus on something, anything else. She thought about Stiles and his first day; he was starting grade ten and he was a mix of cynicism and hope, going from 'I will convince Lydia Martin to fall in love with me this year' to 'I suck and my life sucks and everybody sucks' in two seconds flat.

Eventually though, her thoughts kept circling back; to Laura and the deer and the way she was apparently killed. It wasn't every day that a body was found in halves and she was sure that meant something. But what? What could a _deer_ have to do with it? She remembered Stiles' suggestion; ritualistic in nature, somebody trying to shut her up. It seemed extreme though.

The knock at her door jarred her and she gave an involuntary gasp, startling in her seat enough that Al tumbled out, hissing at her.

She rolled her eyes and frowned at him. "Take it easy," she muttered, before climbing off the couch and starting for the door. She checked the time and frowned; it was late, which meant the number of people who would come calling was small. The knock came again and she snorted. "I swear to God if that's you, Stiles, wanting to know about what was found or what I saw—" She unlocked the door and swung it open, but stopped short, her eyes wide, when she was met not with her little brother, but with her long-lost best friend. "_Derek?_"

He offered a vague half-smile. "Chloe," he said, giving a slow nod.

Her eyes burned suddenly, blurring with tears, and without giving it much thought, she threw herself into his arms. He barely stumbled, catching her easily, and she hugged him tight as her throat clenched. She gripped her arms around him and ducked her head, face pressed to his shoulder. He smelled like trees, leather, and rain. She smiled and let out a heavy breath. His arms were banded around her waist, holding her desperately close, and she felt, for a moment, like no time had passed at all.

She squeezed her eyes and revelled in that, because she knew when she opened them that she'd be reminded that, in fact, _six years _had passed… and half of his sister's body was in a bag being transported to the local coroner.

She squeezed her eyes shut so tightly it hurt, but reality had a way of getting in regardless.

[**Next**: Part II.]


	2. Part II

**Title**: You Are The Moon (That Breaks The Night For Which I Have to Howl)  
**Category**: Smallville/Teen Wolf  
**Genre**: Romance/Drama/Humor  
**Ship**: Chloe Sullivan/Derek Hale  
**Overall Rating**: Explicit/NC-17  
**Chapter Rating**: Teen/PG-13  
**Timeline**: Follows the entire first season, often rewriting full scenes from each episode (possibly whole episodes) to better understand the plot and for those who haven't seen the show.  
**Spoiler(s)**: Wolf Moon (1x01)  
**Word** **Count**: 9,233  
**Summary**: When Chloe Sullivan's childhood best friend returns to Beacon Hills, she's thrown into a mystery she can't help but unravel, involving murder, werewolves, and a crisis of conscience on whether to keep her and her brother Stiles safe from a distance or help out a man she's falling in love with, despite how dark the rabbit hole gets.

**_You Are The Moon (That Breaks The Night For Which I Have to Howl)_**  
-Novel-

**II.**

Derek could feel her trembling. It surprised him at first; in all the years he'd known Chloe, scared wasn't something he'd use to describe her. And on the occasions fear had gotten the better of her, she usually covered it up with her patented snark. But she wasn't doing that with him, instead she was dropping any pretenses and for the first time in a long time, he relaxed and let down his guard.

He carried Chloe inside her apartment, closing the door behind him with the heel of his boot. She smelled like soap and the bitter salt of tears. He'd been tracking her since earlier that night, when he'd seen her walking down the street as he drove by in his car. He hadn't heard from his sister in a week, which wasn't like Laura. Not since their parents died; they might not see each other regularly, but they called daily. Just to check in, make sure the other was alive. Maybe it was dysfunctional, but sometimes Derek couldn't remember a time when his life _was _functional.

Chloe changed that.

Chloe reminded him of days as a kid, when running through the forest was all he did some afternoons. With no fear of what hid behind trees or under brush, just a constant movement of feet, of chasing the pounding of his heart and the rush of his blood. Even though she'd never known his secret, he'd found acceptance in her, the only person outside of his family that he'd ever really trusted.

Until Kate.

The mere thought of her made his face curl with derision and his arms tighten around the woman currently bear-hugging him in a way that might've made a different man gasp for breath.

Six years was a long time and Chloe had grown out of the soft, round-face stage she'd still been in at seventeen. She wasn't any taller though and his mouth twitched up on one side. She smelled the same too, under the body wash and the tears; there was a scent that was all Chloe and it soothed something inside him; something cracked and broken.

She let herself down slowly, unlocking her arms and wiping quickly at her face, sniffling and rubbing under her nose. "Sorry," she laughed, shaking her head. "Nostalgia rush."

He nodded, smiling faintly. "It's been awhile."

Her brows hiked, eyes widening. "Understatement," she said, before taking a step back. She looked him over from head to toe and chuckled. "Still handsome as ever… And is it just me, or did you get taller?"

He ducked his eyes and pursed his lips to keep from grinning. "Pretty sure I was six foot at seventeen…" he mused.

"Huh. Maybe it's just the muscles then." She eyed his arms. "I know we're just reconnecting, but don't make me throw a gym intervention." Her nose wrinkled. "So much planning."

He laughed, rolling his eyes.

Smiling faintly, she pivoted and started for the kitchen. "Thirsty? Hungry? I've got leftover Chinese…"

He crossed his arms loosely over his chest. "Sure. Anything's fine."

She pointed over her shoulder. "Take a seat. We, uh… should talk."

He toed his boots off and made for the living room, pausing as he saw a black and grey cat curled up on an armchair, ears back, eyeing him warily, and fur on end.

"Don't mind Alibi, he's just a grump."

Derek watched the cat a moment before taking a seat on the couch, his head tipped.

It stood up and hissed at him before jumping off the chair and scurrying underneath it, peering out from the cover to watch him.

His lips twitched. "Cats don't like me," he said.

She came back with a box of fried rice, a fork, and a cold bottle of beer for him. "Actually, I remember that…" She snorted as she took a seat on the couch opposite to him. "You remember when we broke into Mrs. Winters house and she had like seven cats?" She raised an eyebrow. Every single one of them started hissing and clawing at you… Never seen anything like it."

"More of a dog person," he muttered, before digging into the box and filling his fork. "How long've you been back in Beacon Hills?" he wondered.

She shrugged. "Three years…?" She paused, drawing her head back in surprise. "Wow, yeah, it's been that long…"

He frowned. "What brought you back? You were in Metropolis last I checked…"

"Last you checked?" Her eyebrow ticked up and she smirked at him knowingly. "You've been checking up on me, Hale?"

He rolled his eyes. "Wasn't hard. You kept your online Wall of Weird going for a while and a blog about when you were in college… It wasn't like you were hiding your tracks, Chloe."

"True," she admitted, shrugging. With a sigh, she leaned back in the couch. "Mom got sick a few years ago…" She fiddled with the edge of her tank top. "John called, he said… he didn't think she had much time, so…" She cleared her throat. "I packed up and I came home to see her, help out any way I could." She shrugged. "Mom died and… it made sense to stick around. I—" She smiled, rolling her eyes. "I told John it was to help him out with Stiles, but honestly, I needed their help…" She glanced at him. "I felt bad, about leaving, about not—not spending enough time here, with her, and I just… I needed my family, so I stayed and I set up shop. I got a job at the Tribute, which I'm editor of now, and… It's better, I guess. I'm happier, anyway."

He nodded, telling her sincerely, "I'm sorry about your mom… Moira was… kind of amazing…" His brows arched. "She asked me and Laura to stay with her, to move in after the fire…"

Chloe turned to look at him, her eyes wide. "I didn't know."

He swallowed tightly. "I was… messed up after everything. I… Me and Laura, we just left, as soon as we could… It was better." He stared at her. "Trust me. It was better that we didn't stay with her."

Derek's eyes darted away as he remembered how Moira Stilinski had approached them the same day he'd found out, sitting in the Sheriff's office in a daze. She'd pulled him into a hug even when so much of him was filled with anger that the tension radiating through made him stiff and unmoveable. "You practically grew up under my feet, Derek, you know you and Laura are more than welcome in our house… We can have Chloe's room moved around, you can share for the first while… Or— Oh, I can put you with Stiles and Laura can have her own room, whatever fits…"

And some part of him wanted to; it wanted to stay where he and Chloe had mapped out their mysteries and snuck Moira's homemade cookies and climbed the trees in the backyard. But another part of him, that part that had grown up knowing the art of survival, understood that if they stayed, then Moira, Stiles, and Sheriff Stilinski would be the next people going up in flames. Kate wouldn't care that they were human; she'd light them up all the same. So he'd thanked her but told her he and Laura had distant relatives they'd be staying with and as soon as the funeral was over, they were on the road and running as far as they could get.

Until now. Six years and he was back to where it all began.

"Derek, why are you back?" she wondered.

He looked over at her. "Laura didn't call… She told me she was coming back here a couple weeks ago and she called every day that first week, but I haven't heard from her since last Monday…"

Chloe squeezed her eyes shut and he could hear as her heart skipped a few beats, slowing to a dull thud. She opened her mouth a few times to start and then stopped before finally she opened her eyes to look at him and he could read it there before the words left her mouth.

His shoulders slumped, face fell, and as if through a tunnel, he could hear her telling him, "She went missing a week ago. I—I put up posters, I asked everyone, I put it in the paper, I—I tried to find you but…" She let out a shaky breath. "A call came into the station today… A body was found in the woods… They think it's her. There's no proof yet, but…"

"How do they not know?" he asked her, his body tensed, hands fisting in his lap. He looked sharply at her. "Why can't they ID the body, Chloe?"

She swallowed thickly. "Because they only found the bottom half."

He let out a heavy breath and closed his eyes, swallowing back the burning bile that crept up his throat.

"I'm sorry." She climbed across the couch on her knees. "Derek, I'm sorry." Her arms wrapped around him again and she pulled him closer even as he tried to lean away, tried to tell himself not to accept her pity or her comfort. But then his cheek was pressed to her shoulder and every breath smelled like her and her fingers were stroking the nape of his neck.

And he remembered Chloe when they were just ten years old and running through the woods.

_"I'm starting to think you're half-cheetah or something," Chloe called after him, huffing a bit. "Normal people don't run this much."_

_He laughed as he circled back to her. "Who wants to be normal?" He ran backwards at her side as she slowed to a jog._

_She rolled her eyes and turned to leap on top of a log, walking across it like it was a gymnastics beam, arms out to keep her balance. "Maybe you could become an Olympic runner... And I'll take a break from writing big expose's so I can write about you and all the awards you win…" She shrugged. "Or your autobiography."_

_"They'd give me awards just for running?" His brow furrowed. "Why?"_

_"I don't know, because other people like running just as much as you do, only they're not as fast…"_

_"Huh." He ran across the log on the other side and used it to jump off the side of a tree, flipping in the air and landing on his feet. He grinned up at her proudly._

_Chloe scoffed. "Show off."_

_"Jealous."_

_"Please." She raised her chin. "My feet are happy on the ground, thanks very much."_

_"I could teach you," he offered, shrugging._

_"Yeah," she snorted, "and when I break my neck, _you _can tell my mom!"_

_He screwed up his mouth. "Never mind."_

_She laughed, but before she could follow the subject of her mom, she heard whining. Her head turned abruptly. "Did you hear that?"_

_Derek was staring at a bush in the distance. "It's over there." He pointed._

_Chloe hopped down and started toward it._

_"Hey! You don't know what it is!" He hurried after her._

_"Whatever it is, it sounds hurt," she replied, jogging ahead._

_"Chloe," he sighed, keeping up at her side. "It could be dangerous… Some animals attack when they're hurt. Or worse, if it's a cub, then their _parents _will attack you." He stared at her, eyes wide for emphasis._

_"Well if it has parents, where are they?" She motioned around and while he looked, she ran forward and pulled the gnarled branches of a bush aside to peer over. Her brow furrowed. "It's a fox…"_

_Derek leaned over her shoulder to see and agreed, "Kit fox."_

_"I think its leg is broken."_

_Frowning, he sniffed the air around them and sighed. "It's dying."_

_She looked back at him. "We need to bring it back to town."_

_"Chloe! It's _dying_," he told her, shaking his head. He couldn't tell her that he smelled death on the animal, but he thought the pitiful noises it was making and the mangled leg were proof enough. "It'd be nicer to kill it now so it doesn't have to suffer."_

_"Don't be stupid," she told him, kneeling and reaching for the wheezing, whining, grey fox. She pet its ear and was careful as it moved, retracting her hands in case it tried to snap at her. "We'll bring it to the vet. If he thinks so, he'll put it down…" She looked back up at him earnestly. "If you were dying in the woods, wouldn't you want someone to care?"_

_He pursed his lips. "Fine, but I'm carrying it," he told her seriously._

_She rolled her eyes. "Go ahead, hero." She took a step back and waited, tapping her foot impatiently._

_Derek sighed and bent down to gather up the tiny fox; it couldn't have weighed more than three pounds, which was underweight even given its small nature. He held it carefully to his chest and stared down into its eyes; it seemed to recognize the wolf inside him because it started to wiggle out of fear. He scrubbed a finger behind its rusty-colored ear to soothe it._

_Chloe lightly stroked the fox's tail. "Come on," she said, starting back._

_"He's probably been out here like this for days," Derek told her. "He was bit so hard the bones probably shattered…" He stared down at the dried blood and frowned. "He might even be infected."_

_She looked back at him. "Way to be optimistic."_

_He shrugged. "Just don't get your hopes up."_

_"Look, you keep the status quo on cynicism and I'll cover the other half." She bumped his shoulder. "Besides, how dumb are you gonna look when this little guy pulls through?" She grinned._

_He shook his head, but didn't argue._

_They walked from the edge of the woods back into town and right into the vet's office. Chloe was exhausted, but she didn't stop to take a rest, instead she marched up to the front desk of the veterinarian's clinic and demanded attention. "He's hurt and he needs help. I know you guys don't usually deal with wild animals, but he was dying in the woods and he had nobody with him."_

_Derek came forward and held out the tiny fox._

_"That doesn't look good," the vet said honestly, but waved a hand for them to follow._

_The fox had to have his leg reset and sewed up; he was put on antibiotics but they were warned that they didn't think he would pull through or even last the night._

_Chloe stayed in the room overnight, petting the sleeping fox from the top of its head down to the tip of its tail. She told it stories about the mysteries they'd solved and then created fairy tales of a fox king that ruled the forest._

_Derek stayed with her the whole night, curled up in one of the chairs, listening with a half-smile as he dozed in and out of sleep._

_The next day they were told the fox seemed a little stronger and had lasted longer than they expected._

_Chloe wasn't allowed to stay another night, mostly because her mom and step-dad put their foot down, but she was there every day before and after school to check on him over the next few weeks._

_He made a full recovery and when he was ready, Derek and she released it back into the wild._

_It stayed near them a moment, staring up at Chloe, before she shooed it away with, "Go, rule the forest mighty king."_

_And it skittered off, its tail swishing._

_She looked up at him then and smiled. "Told ya."_

_Rolling his eyes, he bumped her shoulder. But as he stared out into the forest, still hearing the steady heartbeat of the fox that no longer carried the pungent smell of death, he thought to himself how lucky it was that Chloe had found it. And how lucky he was that if he was ever dying, he'd have her there to nurse him back to health._

His hands dug into her shoulders as he held her close, blowing out a heavy breath as his anger and grief rolled inside him, twisting and turning, up and down, volatile and overwhelming. His nails started to lengthen and curl, but he retracted them, thinking of revenge and how he would find whoever did it and make them pay. He thought of tearing out the throat of a faceless enemy; feeling it course down his arm as he watch a body slump to the ground.

She leaned back from him, squeezing his shoulders, and shook her head. "Whoever did it, we'll find them," she promised, her eyes dark with resolve.

He was surprised by how comforted he was by her words, but then remembered that she was one of the smartest people he knew; that most of their childhood was spent cracking mysteries wide open because Chloe could smell a conspiracy a mile away. She always knew when something was off and needed solving. Except him. She'd never realized that her own best friend was born a werewolf and that every full moon he'd run through the woods with his pack or, in the earlier years, be chained down so he didn't hurt or kill anybody. When he learned control, he was let free, and while his base urges were stronger, they didn't overpower him.

When he was twelve years old, he used the memory of Chloe's laughter to reign him in. He would think of her and how she'd smile at him; her blonde hair flipping up at the ends, and he would feel the animal inside him begin to calm. When he asked his parents, they'd exchanged a look before telling him that he had to find his anchor, something to tie him back to his human half so the wolf wouldn't reign supreme. From then until he was seventeen, Chloe was his anchor. And then Kate showed up and he was drawn in; she was dangerous and sexy and she pulled at his animal senses as much as the human. Still, even as he was sleeping with her and falling deeper into her trap, it was never her face or her laugh that kept him steady on the full moon. And he never stopped to wonder why, never questioned it. Especially when months later, his family was slaughtered in a fire and he knew— He _knew _it was her and her family; the Argents. Even thinking their name made a burst of violent anger seethe up inside him. He held onto that righteous resentment for six long years, revenge and hatred pushing him on.

And now his sister was dead; his last remaining family member besides his catatonic uncle, and he wanted, more than anything, to tear Kate's jugular out too and smile as she bled to death.

"Derek?" Chloe's thumb rubbed over his cheek.

"I should go," he said, his brow furrowed.

"No." She shook her head, staring at him seriously. "You're not leaving. Not when you just found out that Laura…" Her voice trailed off, cracking. She blinked quickly. "Stay. I—I'll make up the couch or you can have the bed, but just…" She searched his face. "Please don't go, I… I just got you back and a week ago I was having lunch with Laura and we were laughing about what we were like as kids and… Maybe it's selfish, but I just… I _need_ you here. I—I need to know that you're okay or… as okay as you can be."

He sighed. He'd planned to stay out at the Hale house; it wasn't the Hilton by any means and he knew it hadn't been repaired or rebuilt, but it was his and it tied to everything he'd lost in his life. He needed it, needed to be there so it could keep pushing him, driving him to get his revenge. So when he laid his head down at night, he wouldn't forget who he was or why.

But Chloe was asking him to stay and… Even when he was five years old it had been hard to say no to her, and it hadn't changed now that he was twenty-three.

She tipped her head and stared down at him, empathy radiating thickly off of her. "Look, we'll sleep and tomorrow we'll start asking questions. We'll stop by the sheriff's department and see what they found out and then I can show you what I know she was working on."

He nodded.

Climbing off the couch, she walked toward her linen closet to get out a spare sheet, blanket, and then stole a pillow from her bed. "Why don't you take the bed?" she suggested, dropping everything down on the couch.

He shook his head. "No, seriously, it's—"

"It was rhetorical," she cut him off. "You're taking the bed." She put her hands on her hips and stared down at him, lips quirked in a knowing smile.

His mouth twisted in a defeat smile. "No point in arguing," he said, standing from the couch and towering over her. "Thanks for…" He nodded, not sure how to word it.

She nodded, getting it, and reached for his hand to tug him along with her, bringing him into her bedroom and flicking on the light.

He wasn't surprised to see all the bright colors; from her orange and blue bedspread to her bright red dresser and bedside table collection down to the throw rug made of different circles filled with every color of the rainbow.

"Not exactly the earth tones I remember your room being, but it'll have to do," she said, before walking in and flipping the blanket back for him. "I don't have anything for you to change into, so…" She waved a hand at him. "Do what's comfortable and I'll wash the sheets tomorrow."

He snorted, eyebrows flashing.

She half-smiled, the vague sense of victory in her face. "Night," she told him before moving past to the door. She paused and turned back, hand on the handle. "Hey, stick around in the morning… I've gotta stop by the house and wake up Stiles for his first day of school, but when I get back, we'll go for breakfast and go over what I know, all right?" She quirked her head in question.

He nodded, grinding his teeth together as he let his mind wander over what little he knew. "Goodnight," he told her.

She closed the door behind her and he could hear her footsteps as she padded back to the couch.

Derek started stripping off clothes; he folded up his shirt and jeans, damp from the rain, and pulled off his wet socks. After flicking off the lights, he climbed into her bed in just his boxer-briefs and pulled the blanket up, turning on his side and staring into the dark for a moment before sighing and burying his face in her pillow. It smelled like her; the whole bed did. Not like perfume or body wash, but like her skin. He breathed it in and felt something inside him begin to crack. His eyes closed as the burn of tears collected.

Laura was dead.

He could still remember her laugh, her lopsided smirk, how she looked when she was a baby, as an awkward teenager, as a confused, scared girl who just lost her parents, and eventually as the alpha werewolf who took control and stepped into leadership like a second skin. His hands clenched the pillow up so tight, he heard the fabric tear, and let out a heavy breath.

Laura was his baby sister; a few years younger than him, but smarter and stronger than he'd ever been. When she said she was going back to Beacon Hills, he'd outright refused to go with her. He couldn't stand the idea and he'd been a little pissed at her for going. He knew the Argents had moved away not long after the fire, but he still related Beacon Hills to danger and the last thing he wanted for his sister, alpha or not, was to step back into that.

The first night she called, she told him the town was the same as ever. And he'd noticed the same thing as he drove through; everything was exactly as it had been when he left. What might've been a comfort to some felt wrong to him; how could it not change after what happened? How could the town just continue on when ten people had died and one had been so severely traumatized that he didn't move or speak after? But it wasn't the town that caused it; it was Kate. And him. If he hadn't gotten close to her, hadn't let her get close to his family, then they wouldn't be dead and neither would Laura. Even now, if he'd just gone with her, she might've lived.

Anger and self-loathing twisted him up, eating away at his insides; he was so focused on it he almost didn't hear the door open.

His eyes, which he knew were a bright shade of glowing blue, squeezed shut and he tried but failed to retract his nails or the fangs that elongated in his mouth.

The bed dipped as Chloe climbed in behind him and laid down, her arm against his bare back.

"Do you remember when we were little…?" she asked quietly, as if she didn't want to disturb the dark. "And when I'd get in trouble or I knew the principal was going to call home and complain about something I did, someone I investigated, I'd just… find you." She shook her head. "I'd go out to your house and hide in your room or we'd hike through the woods until it was dark…" He could hear as she swallowed tightly. "You were always my safe haven, Derek. I… Even in Smallville when everything was going wrong, I'd just… wish you were there. Wish I could _talk _to you…" She sighed, turning onto her side, the bed shifting beneath them. "There is _nothing _I can say that can make this better," she said, reaching out until her hand was flat against his back. "But I won't leave you… I wasn't there after your family died, but… I'm going to be here for every minute of this… And if you have to leave, after, later, when it's all figured out, then okay. Fine. I—I can accept that. But until we know who did this to Laura, until we get justice, then Derek… You're stuck with me."

He breathed in deep and he felt as his teeth retracted, his nails shortened, and his eyes returned to normal. He turned over to face her and watched her face, highlighted by the moon filtering in through the window overlooking the bed. Tears glazed her eyes as she stared up at him apologetically. He reached for her, tucking her hair behind her ear, and he thought about the hundreds of times since he left Beacon Hills that he went to Smallville and to Metropolis, just needing to see her and wanting so badly to talk to her but not knowing what to say. She leaned up into his hand and he gathered her in close, resting his cheek against her head, her hair soft under his chin.

"She was the last one," he rasped, inhaling thickly. "She was all I had."

Chloe stretched her body out along his and hugged her arms around him. "I'm sorry," she murmured, over and over. She rubbed his back and kneaded his shoulders, rubbing the nape of his neck until he started to relax against her. It could've been hours or minutes, but he stayed like that, letting her try and soothe it away enough that it didn't feel like it was eating him whole. And then, as if his eyes drifted shut, sleep weighing them down, she promised, "I know it's not the same, but you've got me… I'm not going anywhere."

And Derek promised himself as he fell asleep that he would never let anything happen to Chloe for as long as he lived. That she would be the last person he trusted or cared about and nothing and no one would ever harm a hair on her head. She'd been a different kind of family when he was a kid and now she would be his family again. Not in the same way Laura had, but part of him, protected by him, all the same.

He fell asleep wondering if he could still be an Olympic runner and she could write his autobiography; that life seemed so much easier than the one he got stuck with instead.

…

When Chloe woke up that morning, to the blaring noise of her alarm, she blinked rapidly against the sudden interruption. She noticed after a few seconds of lying back against the pillows, her arm drawn over her head, that the right side of her bed was empty. She cracked one eye open and looked over to see that Derek wasn't there, and for a moment she wondered if she'd dreamed it; if Laura's death had caused a very realistic dream. She thought she could still smell him; still feel him in her arms. Momentarily distracted, she remembered how solid and large he'd been, cradled in close to her, her hands splayed over his back. The last time she'd seen him, he'd been strong, sure, but leaner, long and lanky.

Sighing, she rolled onto her side and spotted the piece of paper on the bedside table. Not a dream. She smiled and grabbed it up, squinting at his slanted, chicken-scratch writing. He promised to meet her at the diner at eight for breakfast, said he had something to do first. She pushed up from bed, glancing at the clock that read six am and wondered what he could possibly have needed to do. Pushing off the bed, she started for her bathroom, stripping off her shirt as she went.

"Well that's an unexpected morning greeting," came a familiar voice.

"Oh my god," she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her chest, hands tucked in her armpits, turning her head abruptly to look at him with wide eyes. "I thought you _left_."

He tried to stifle a smile. "I just wrote that," he said. "I heard your alarm go off so I thought I'd wait and tell you in person…" His eyebrows rose. "I didn't think you'd start getting naked as soon as I left…"

She rolled her eyes. "I was going to shower."

He shrugged. "Most people wait until they're in the bathroom."

She scoffed. "When have I ever been _most people?_" She started for the bathroom, brows furrowed. "What did you see?"

He tucked his arms behind his back and gave her a blank face.

"Too much," she said decidedly, before walking through the door. "I'll see you at eight," she assured, closing it behind her with her foot.

"Try to dress appropriately."

"_Shut up!_" she shouted, laughing.

Still smiling to herself, Chloe finished undressing and hopped in for a shower.

An hour later, after brushing her teeth, blow-drying and straightening her hair, putting on a little light make-up, and pouring herself a travel mug of coffee, she was walking out of her apartment and locking up; she'd dressed casually since she planned on taking the day off from work and spending it with Derek on the trail left by Laura.

She took her car out to the Stilinski house and was just pulling in as John was leaving, coffee in hand.

"You're early," he said.

"And you're leaving before we settle our bet," she reminded with a smile.

He laughed under his breath and waited for her to meet him on the walkway. "How are you feeling?" he asked, pulling the door open and following her inside.

She shrugged, tucking her hands in the pockets of her jacket. "Like I can't believe it's really happened…" She looked over at him sadly. "I have moments where I accept it and others where I'm really hoping it's just a nightmare that I'll wake up from."

He nodded, eyes cast to the floor. "Well, I'm going in to talk to the coroner now…" he told her. "So if you stop by around lunch, I might have a few answers for you."

She smiled. "You're a peach, Sheriff."

He snorted and shook his head. "You know, when you were a kid, you spent most of your time in and out of my office for getting into trouble… Seems kind of funny that you use those same skills to bring others to justice."

"I only write the news, you _make _it," she reminded.

"We're on the same team, Chloe." He reached for her and brought her in so he could kiss her temple. "If you need _anything_…"

She closed her eyes and nodded. "I know, and thanks."

He started back for the door, saying over his shoulder. "Keep me updated on Stiles."

She chuckled. "Oh, I will."

As he walked out, the door creaked closed behind him. Chloe climbed the stairs up to the second floor, hand smoothing over the banister, and walked down the hall to Stiles room. Beside it was her old bedroom, now filled with boxes, much of it her mother's things that John hadn't had the heart to get rid of. She knocked lightly on Stiles door but he didn't answer, so she pushed it open slowly and peeked around.

His bedroom was surprisingly clean for a teenage boy; his walls had posters of bands and movies he loved, his dirty clothes were in the general direction of his laundry basket, his desk was topped with a boxset of his favorite TV series, a laptop, and a mess of pens and pencils. The bookshelf on the far wall was a mixture of books, comic books, action figures, and photo albums that she knew were originally their mom's. A corkboard pinned lopsidedly to the wall had a calendar, two months behind, the ticket stubs to a concert he went to the summer before, a picture of him and their mom before she got sick, a photo-strip that he and Chloe had taken when she'd come to visit him when he was still a gawky, awkward eleven year old, and a picture of the every pretty Lydia Martin.

Stiles was lying face down on his bed, splayed like a starfish, his alarm clock toppled over and hanging over the edge of his bedside table by the cord. She rolled her eyes and walked further into the room.

Because Chloe was still his sister, regardless of how mature she was, she jumped on his bed.

"What the—Who the—Holy sh—" Stiles complained, rolling right off the bed and landing on his back. "Ow," he said, eyes screwed up as he laid there. "Okay, that wasn't necessary."

Snorting, she hopped off the bed to landed next to him. "It's almost seven-thirty," she told him. "You've got less than an hour if you want to be on time."

He sat up abruptly and scrubbed a hand over his face. "My alarm! I—" He turned his head and stared at it, dangling. Tipping his head, he nodded. "Oh. Right."

She smiled and started for the door. "You're welcome."

"Yeah." He pushed up from the floor, grabbing onto the bed for balance. "Oh, hey…"

She turned back.

"Uh…" His eyes fell and he waved his hands around. "About last night, with the body and…" He swallowed and walked toward her. "I know it hasn't been identified but dad said he was pretty sure it was, uh, _Laura_ so… I guess…" He rubbed a hand down the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Chloe…" He stared at her earnestly. "I know you and Laura were friends. I mean…" He tipped his head, eyes wandering away, "I don't really _remember_ her much, but… I don't know, everybody you're friends with has to be good people, right?"

She smiled sadly. "Smallville tested that, but… The Hales were. All of them." She dropped her eyes for a moment before offering a reassuring smile. "But hey, it's okay because I'm going to find out what happened…" She nodded determinedly. "So it'll be fine."

She turned to leave again but he reached for her arm and pulled her back. He stared into her eyes, mouth folded regretfully, before finally he pulled her into a hug. He squeezed her tight and said, "I'm here, okay? I mean, I don't always say the right thing but… I'm here for you."

Chloe nodded, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I know, Stiles…" She held on for a little while, letting the moment sink in, before finally pulling back and swiping at her eyes. "But seriously, you need to get dressed!" She pointed at him. "First day of school, remember?" She winked. "You'll want to look good for Beacon Hill's princess, Miss _Lydia Martin_," she said with a grandiose tone.

He rolled his eyes. "You laugh now, but when she's your sister-in-law…" He trailed off, brows hiked, before he started for the bathroom, hands up. "I'm just saying… Get used to it now."

She bit her lip and quirked a brow. "You want me to draw up the wedding invitations now or…?"

He shook his head. "Nah, she's probably already got them figured out. She's a planner."

Chloe laughed. "Good to know."

He grinned before turning on his heel and walking into the bathroom.

She made her way back downstairs and went to the kitchen; Stiles tended to do the shopping for both him and John, since his dad was always busy, but he was still a teenage boy. He probably didn't have time for her to make anything substantial so she just got out a bowl and a box of less sugary cereal before grabbing out the jug of milk and putting in a couple slices of bread for toast.

They popped as she heard Stiles heavy footsteps racing down the stairs.

She buttered them before putting a jar of jam and a butter knife on the table.

Stiles walked into the dining room, dragging his shirt on over his head.

"Good?" she asked.

He sat down and shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. His muffled reply of, "Good!" was joined by a thumbs-up.

"What about lunch money?" she wondered.

He dug out his wallet from his back pocket, spoon hanging out of his mouth, and showed her a ten.

"Okay, and after?" Her eyebrow arched. "You've got lacrosse practice, right?"

Rolling his eyes, he plucked his spoon out. "Yes, _mom_."

"Hey, if you don't want my help…" She held her hands up in a 'do it yourself then' gesture.

He frowned, eyes turned off to the side. "No, I probably need you…" he sighed.

"Would it be weird if I showed up to practice?" she wondered, eyes narrowed. "Maybe wore a Team Stiles t-shirt? Broke out the pom-poms?"

He glared witheringly at her. "_Yes_."

She laughed. "Fine. But only because I'm busy all day today anyway…" Arms crossed, she rested them on the table and leaned forward. "Which reminds me… Scott was in the woods with you last night, right?"

He nodded, chewing his cereal.

"I called for him after you and John were out of hearing range but I didn't get an answer." She tipped her head. "Have you talked to him? He's okay?"

"Mmm…" He shook his head and swallowed his bite. "He got bit by something, I guess, I don't know. But he's fine. We're meeting at school."

"_Bit _by something?" Her brow furrowed.

"Yeah, he said he was walking through the forest, trying to stay out of sight, and I dunno…" He shrugged. "He almost got trampled by this whole herd of deer and then something attacked him… Bit him on the side."

"Did he go to the doctor?" she worried.

"His mom's a nurse; he just used the first aid kit and wrapped it up."

"Uh, I don't wanna burst your little teenage bubble of irresponsibility, but if you don't know what bit him, he should get it checked out. What if whatever it was had rabies?" She shook her head and hiked her brows meaningfully. "Seriously, tell him to stop by the hospital."

He shrugged, holding up his hands. "All right. I don't even know how bad it is. I mean, he just said 'bite', so…"

She hummed. "Yeah, well, if you came home with a bite, I don't care _how _big, I'd drag you to the hospital myself…" Grabbing up her bag, she told him, "I gotta go. But have a good first day. I expect details at dinner."

He saluted her with his spoon, frowning as he accidentally flicked milk into his own face.

Chuckling to herself, she waved over her shoulder and walked out, checking her watch for the time before she hopped in her car to meet Derek for breakfast.

…

Stiles frowned, rolling his eyes as watched Jackson pull a 'better than you' move and knock his car door into Scott, who was pulling off his helmet, leaning against his bike in the rack.

"Yo, Jackson! Let's go, bro!" someone yelled behind him.

Stiles snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and nodding as he saw Scott approach.

He bounced on his heels, holding the strap of his backpack. "Okay, let's see this thing…" he said as Scott met him.

Dropping his bag to the ground at his feet, he reached for the bottom of his hoodie, wincing as he pulled up the grey fabric, showing a large square bandage taped to his side, blood soaking through some of it.

"Oooh!" he exclaimed, reaching out, his whole hand spanning the gauze.

Scott flinched, leaning away from his touch. "Whoa!" he said, warning him off.

Brow furrowed as he stared at it, Stiles retracted his hand.

Dropping his shirt back into place, Scott grabbed up his bag, his Lacrosse stick strapped to the side. "It was too dark to see much, but I'm pretty sure it was a wolf," he said, turning to start walking up the path leading to the high school.

"A wolf bit you?" Stiles said, brows hiked with amusement.

"Uh-huh."

"No. Not a chance," he said simply, laughing under his breath.

Scott's brow furrowed. "I heard a wolf howling," he replied, waving his hand.

Shaking his head, Stiles reared it back, saying with certainty, "No, you didn't."

He laughed shortly. "What do you mean, 'no, I didn't'? How do you know what I heard?"

He snorted with laughter. "Because California doesn't have wolves, okay?" He slowed down and turned to face him. "Not in like sixty years."

Scott's face screwed up in confusion. "Really?"

"Yes, _really!_" he exclaimed, shaking his head. "There are no wolves in California!" He wave his fingers with finality.

Scott looked away, head tipped thoughtfully. Brows hiked, he said with a half-smile, "All right, well if you don't believe me about the wolf, then you're definitely not going to believe me about when I tell you I _found _the body."

"Dude! Are you kidding me?" He leaned in closer, his eyes wide.

"No, man, _I wish!_ I'm gonna have nightmares for a _month_."

"Wait, which half?" he wondered.

"Uh…" His brow furrowed. "The top half?"

Stiles nodded. "Dad said they found the bottom half not long after I was found out… Which reminds me," He slapped a hand against Scott's chest. "My sister said she called out for you after we left, she wanted to make sure you were okay."

Scott smiled goofily. "She did?"

He rolled his eyes. "Dude, your crush on my sister is weird and gross. She's seven years older than you, okay?" He shook his head. "She babysat us and read us bedtime stories… It's _over!_"

He simply shrugged. "Chloe's nice, and _pretty_… And she always kept an extra inhaler on her because of my asthma attacks…"

"Okay, but you don't fall for the first pretty girl that's nice to you, all right?"

Scott snorted. "Like you're much better? Instead of falling for a nice girl, you fell for one who doesn't even know you _exist_."

"She… knows I exist," he muttered defensively. "She… is walking right toward us." He perked up and grinned at the strawberry blonde beauty walking with her arm up, purse hooked at her elbow, friend at her side. He grinned. "Hey Lydia!" he greeted as she walked past him. "You look…" He stared at her back as she climbed the stairs to the school entrance. "Like you're going to ignore me…" He frowned, brow knotted, and tapped his foot to work off the frustration. He turned back to Scott. "You're the cause of this, y'know?"

Amused, Scott said, "Uh-huh."

"Dragging me down to your nerd depths."

The bell rang shrilly in the background.

"Uh-huh," Scott said, walking around him toward the school.

"I'm a nerd by association," Stiles continued. "I've been scarlet nerded by you."

He snorted. "You want me to apologize?"

He shrugged his shoulders high, eyes round. "It would be appreciated."

Scott merely grinned.

Later, in English class, they sat a row apart, with Stiles a seat behind.

The teacher stood at the front, writing on the chalkboard, back to the room, and said, "As you all know there _indeed_ was a body found in the woods last night… And I'm sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened… But I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody…"

Brows furrowed, Stiles turned his head to look at a confused Scott; he flipped his hands up and shook his head, having no idea what their teacher was talking about. As far as he knew, nobody was in custody, and he was pretty sure Chloe would've mentioned it.

"Which _means_," the teacher went on, "you can give your _undivided_ attention to the syllabus which is on your desk outlining this semester."

The class groaned and Stiles sat back, rubbing his nose as the urge to sneeze rose up. He frowned down at his desk, opening the syllabus, but thinking instead about how his sister had looked that morning. While the recent body found in the woods would usually be insanely interesting, since it wasn't so often that Beacon Hills had a murder on their hands, it was a little different when he kind of knew the person. He didn't really remember Laura, but he did remember Derek.

He'd been five years old when Chloe packed up and moved from California all the way over to Kansas, so he only had vague memories of chasing after her and wanting to be included in the latest mystery her and Derek Hale were out to solve. He'd been a tall boy with dark hair and an easy grin, attached to Chloe's hip. Stiles remembered his mom lamenting that she never saw Derek hanging around with anybody but his family since Chloe moved away. His memories were more defined as he grew up. Chloe visited every summer and spring break and splitting her time between her family, often babysitting Stiles and Scott, and then spending all of her free time with Derek catching up. And even then, Stiles had been the hyperactive little brother that wanted to tag along on everything. Chloe usually put him off, promising that when he was old enough, she'd take him along to go scoobying with her.

Stiles was nine when the big fire took the Hale house, he remembered watching the news footage and later seeing his mom, pacing and worrying. His dad had been on site, trying to find out if anybody knew anything or who all was home. It had happened during school but the fire went on for hours, fighting against the small army of firefighters that came to put it out. He remembered sitting in the hallway, kicking his legs back and forth, as Derek and Laura Hale sat in his dad's office, being told what happened to their family. And he remembered how his mom had hugged a stiff Derek and offered them a place in their house. At the time, Stiles had wondered if they would be family; if Derek and Laura would be like his sister and brother. He wondered too if it meant Chloe would come home, since she'd been close to the Hale family and he figured she'd want to be there for Derek after what happened. But Derek said no, stopping that idea in its tracks, and later, while his sister would come back, it was only for the funeral. Derek and Laura left town not long after and Chloe went back to Smallville to live with her dad.

Stiles tried to picture Laura's face but he was stuck on how lost and angry Derek had looked. In how broken and sad Chloe had been when she came home, and even this morning, the rings under her eyes and heavy grief that hung on her shoulders despite how she tried to hide it.

The door opened then, drawing attention, while the vice principal escorted a pretty brunette in behind him. "Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent," he introduced, tucking his hands in the pockets of his pressed pants.

She smiled awkwardly at them, her head ducked slightly.

"Please do your best to make her feel welcome." As he turned to leave, Allison started up the second to last aisle, avoiding eye contact with anybody.

She smiled at him briefly as she passed and he gave her a friendly nod before she took a seat right behind Scott, who turned around, his eyes wide, and held out a pen.

Stiles smirked at his best friend's expression and figured his crush on Chloe had just been blown out of the water.

"Thanks," Allison said, taking the pen.

Scott continued to stare, smiling slightly, before the teacher drew their attention and they were forced to focus on class.

Shaking his head, Stiles marked a check in the pro column for today. It hadn't started out the best, but knowing Scott wasn't crushing on his sister was an upside he could work with. He hoped the rest of the day followed suit.

…

Chloe half-smiled, looking up as a body filled the other side of the booth she was occupying. "You're late."

Derek readjusted his jacket. "Took me a little longer this morning than I expected…" He looked up as Jessa stopped at their table. "Uh, coffee, please?"

"That's it?" Chloe shook her head. "Two breakfast specials, please and thanks," she ordered for both of them.

He quirked an eyebrow. "Still as demanding as I remember."

She shrugged, eyebrows flashing. "All part of my charm…" She leaned back in her seat and wrapped her hands around her coffee mug, letting the warmth seep into her hands. "So what had you busy this morning?"

His eyes turned away momentarily. "I went out to the house."

She paused before looking at him. "You drove out there?" She shook her head. "It hasn't been rebuilt. I… I don't think the've done anything with it except clean up the surrounding area."

He nodded, his teeth clenched. "It's still standing though… It had a strong structure."

"Derek…" She leaned forward and covered his hand, rubbing her thumb around one of his knuckles. "That probably wasn't easy for you…"

He pursed his lips. "I had to."

She shook her head. "Please tell me you don't still blame yourself for what happened…" She frowned. "You were at school, and even then, you were _seventeen_. You couldn't know that would happen…"

"I _should _have…" He nodded, raising his eyes to meet hers, his expression sad but earnest. "It _was _my fault, what happened…"

She sighed.

The waitress appeared then and turned over a mug, filling it nearly to the brim with hot, black coffee.

Chloe let go of his hand so he could pour in the necessary sugar; he never added cream.

"John said they'd have the coroner's report by lunch today," she told him, resting her elbows on the tabletop. "They're also going out to search for the… _other half_… They might already be out, since he planned it for early morning…" She watched his face a long moment. "She had a hotel room; there wasn't much in it. A couple changes of clothes still in her bag and a photo album… I brought it back to my house, if you want them."

He nodded, staring down into his coffee mug.

"Did she tell you why she was coming here?"

He shook his head.

"I had something on the online newspaper. There was an attack; somebody carved something on the side of a deer… She was investigating it." Her brows hiked. "She wouldn't say _why_, but that's what she was looking for."

"Did she find it?" he wondered.

Chloe shrugged. "I don't know. She asked about it when she first got here but she didn't bring it up again after. We visited, she stopped in to see Peter at the hospital, and then, I don't know… I saw her every day for a week and suddenly she just didn't show up."

He ground his teeth, glaring into the distance.

"We have some time to waste, so we'll stop by my office and get what I had collected on the investigation… I was already working on it when she started asking questions; I haven't made much headway but it's something…"

He nodded.

Their food arrived then and they were distracted for a moment; or she was as she unrolled her cutlery. Derek was still brooding, stuck in his head. She pushed his plate at him. "Hey…" She waited until he met her eyes. "Have I ever not solved the mystery?"

He relaxed slightly and shook his head.

"Then eat." She tapped the plate with her fork. "We'll figure it out."

He sighed, but picked up his own cutlery and started on his pancakes.

His stomach gave a growl and her lips twitched. "Hungry?"

"Most of the time," he muttered.

"Guess you haven't changed too much."

He smiled to himself but it faded quickly. "I'm not the same kid I was, Chloe…" He raised his eyes to meet hers. "I'm not who you remember."

"None of us are how we were as kids…" She shook her head. "I'd like to think I'm better at not getting caught when I break and enter…" She half-smiled.

He licked his lips, scoffing to himself.

Sobering, she said sincerely, "Derek, I don't expect you to be exactly who you were, I just hope you held onto some of your finer points…" Her eyes narrowed. "And I don't mean those cheekbones of yours, either."

He laughed, a smile breaking through.

Biting her lip, she gazed at him thoughtfully. "Whoever you turned out to be, you're still my best friend… And I'll stick with you, whatever happens."

He stared at her for a long, searching moment, before finally nodding.

"Good." She pointed. "Now eat up."

"Yes, ma'am," he teased before digging in.

Chloe knew the lighthearted banter wouldn't last long; it never did. But any respite she might give him from what happened to Laura, she would make the most out of.

[**Next**: Part III.]


End file.
